A Father's Fears
by CNGB
Summary: Lyall Lupin loved few people and hated many, but that didn't stop him from being afraid. Afraid of what Remus' transformations did to him, afraid of the full moon, afraid of the magical society's intolerance, and afraid of his son's tears. It is difficult to ease someone's fears when you are also terrified, but he liked to think managed okay.


A/N: Hello again, my lovelies. I'm back because I love Remus. And Lyall. And Hope. And Teddy. And Dora. And just the Lupin _family_, really.

Written for **Aim. Reach. Increase**'s The Crayola Challenge, using the color _Outer Space__. _

Disclaimer: I don't own _Harry Potter_. And you know what? I don't even work for the Crayola company.

XXX

Lyall Lupin was a failure.

A failure as a husband, because he was unable to give his wife the comfy life she deserved; a failure as a brother, because his sister had abandoned them because of his own stupidity; and, worst of all, a failure as a father, because his son was destined for a lifetime of pain and misery. Because of him. _All_ because of him. Had he been smarter, faster—more open-minded, even—then Remus would have never been hurt. He would have never known that fear and pain so early in life, if _ever_. If only Lyall wasn't such a failure.

He remembered, very clearly, the screams and the cries. The blood and the mangled body of his son were painted behind his eyelids. He remembered the adrenaline rush and the fear, and he remembered how he knew with every fiber of his being that his own terror was nothing compared to what Remus' must have been. He remembered his son's confusion. He remembered the hospital. He remembered all the times that they tried, tried, _tried_ to help him, to cure him, and he remembered how they were all futile.

He remembered the screams.

He remembered the cries.

Lyall shuddered and continued to drink his tea, wishing that he had something stronger. Hope was out with her friend at the Muggle cinema, and Remus was in his room, asleep.

Remus was a _good boy_. He was the type of child to cry over crushed beetles on the sidewalk, to never wish harm on anyone, to always ask if someone needed help. Remus aided his mother in the kitchen and ran the occasional errands for his father. He was selfless and slow to anger.

But would _they_ understand that? No, of course they wouldn't. _They_ could never understand—no, they would never even _try_. They would never even think about how terrible Remus' suffering was. They would laugh if they seen him a few days before the full moon, aching and, if the transformation was to be particularly terrible, sobbing quietly into his mother's dress. They would sneer if they seen him _after_ the full moon, bloody and beaten with torn muscles and broken bones, sometimes unable to walk from one side of his bedroom to the next for days at a time, sometimes so injured that Lyall would be able to do nothing and be forced to take him to St. Mungo's, which was always a terrible experience.

They would encourage him to feel worthless and pathetic, feed him lies that his parents didn't love him and only kept him out of pity. It would not be difficult for them to convince Remus that he was a vile beast worthy only of pain and death, because Lyall was not entirely certain that Remus believed otherwise.

Damn them. Damn every last _one_ of them.

His awful ex-sister, who he had loved and cherished so much until Remus was bitten and she threw him against the wall, and all of those holier-than-thou Healers that did nothing to ease his pain and everything to make him feel uncomfortable. All of those priests that threw him on the alter, all of the people who had promised to free him of his curse while they lashed him and cut him and drove nails into his palms.

Lyall squeezed the glass. His hand clenched his robes. They would never, ever understand, and he, the father, the supposed "protector," would be powerless against their hate.

And oh, how they hated.

Not that he didn't. He hated, too. He hated the Healers, his ex-sister, his magical neighbors, his _Muggle_ neighbors, all of the so-called "curers," and he hated his son's friends and his son's friends' parents, especially Orion and Walburga Black, and he hated himself for allowing Greyback anywhere near his home, and he hated Greyback most of all—

There were few people Lyall did not hate. He loved Hope and he loved Remus, and he was grateful to Dumbledore, who allowed Remus to attend Hogwarts, and to Professor McGonagall, Remus' Head of House, who was his only teacher who knew of his affliction, and he was grateful to the school's matron Madam Pomfrey, for healing Remus so expertly and taking care of him, and _keeping the secret_.

Lyall took a deep breath that was meant to be calming but wasn't.

All was quiet in the Lupin home, except for the crackling of the fireplace. He closed his eyes and cleared his mind, for he did not want to work himself into a state of rage. Perhaps it was a good thing, indeed, that they only had tea.

Then, from upstairs, Remus screamed.

Lyall dropped the glass with a strangled yelp and stood up so quickly that the chair fell to the floor with a crash.

He ran, feeling his organs clogging his windpipe, and took the stairs four a time. His wand—where was his wand?—there it was, in his pocket—

What was it? Had Greyback come to finish his job? Had someone found out what Remus was and come to get him?

By the time Lyall threw open his son's bedroom door, Remus had stopped screaming and had his arms wrapped around his knees and was rocking back and forth. Lyall, whose majority of his circulatory system was still throbbing behind his Adam's apple, slowly lowered his wand and made his way to Remus. He could feel himself calming down, feel his brain thinking rationally once again. This was _not_ like that awful, awful night seven years ago. Remus was _not_ being attacked. He was safe.

Well, mostly safe.

"Remus," he said, trying (and failing) to keep his voice from wavering. Remus did not answer, so he tried again: "Remus!"

He was no longer crying at that point, but his chest was heaving and it looked painful. Lyall gingerly sat on the bed and tugged his son closer.

"Remus, open your eyes. It was just a dream."

And what, Lyall wondered, had he been dreaming about? Of the whips striking his back to "remove the beast?" Of the attack itself? Did he dream about Lyall and Hope finally giving up on him and leaving him on the streets? That thought was possibly more painful than any other.

"N-not a dream," said Remus, but he did as he was told and allowed his father to hold him tighter. "Not just a dream."

The room was quiet, except for Remus' heavy breathing, which was, mercifully, getting slower and steadier by the minute. With his son laying his head on his chest, Lyall rested on the bed and ran his hand through Remus' hair in what he prayed to God was a comforting gesture.

"Do you want to talk about it, Remus?"

The boy shuddered, but did not answer.

"You don't have to if you don't want to, you know. Only do it if you _want_ to. . . ."

This, he knew, needed to be said because if it was not Remus would surely believe that he had no choice in the matter.

"I . . . I don't, Father. I'm sorry. I don't."

"You needn't be sorry," said Lyall, though he wished that Remus would confide in him. "Do remember that you can always tell me at anytime—or you can tell your mother, if you prefer. Don't think that you're—you're _burdening_ us. Do you understand, Remus?"

Remus nodded against his chest, and Lyall sighed, because he knew in his heart that his son did not understand.

But instead of pressing the matter he stayed there, long after Remus fell asleep and Hope came back in, and long after he would have normally. From his position, he could see the moon perfectly. Waning gibbous. So, so much better than the waxing counterpart, but still hateful. It taunted him: _"Look at me. Look at what I do to your son. You are powerless against me. Soon, I will be full again, and who knows if that will be the last time or not?"_

Lyall cursed the Moon, the Milky Way, all of Outer Space—he cursed God and wondered, not for the first or the last time, why it had been Remus to be punished for Lyall's sins.

He was a failure.

XXX

Reviews are nice, just like astronomy. (And I like astronomy.)

~ Brandi


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